


An Unexpected Call

by puppyfacedbrokenboys



Category: Glee
Genre: 4x04, Klaine Break-Up, M/M, tumblr inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppyfacedbrokenboys/pseuds/puppyfacedbrokenboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blaine gets ignored by Kurt he makes another phone call. Noah is there for Blaine to vent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Call

**Author's Note:**

> The fake Facebook status is not mine. I saw it on Tumblr and it sparked this little one-shot thing.
> 
> http://you-take-my-breath-away.tumblr.com/post/32516196727

 

Blaine does as Puck told him on Facebook. He calls Kurt. When it doesn't work out, Blaine finds himself calling Puck before he could even register what his fingers were doing. 

Puck just stares at his phone, which is ringing ‘Intoxicated’ by The Cab, with Blaine’s name flashing accompanied by a Rockstar facial-expression picture of Blaine (tongue sticking out, nose and eyes scrunched up, the whole nine yards—there may even have been eyeliner involved) from one of their Glee performances from last year. 

_‘Cause I think you’re from another world_  
 _And I—I couldn’t love another girl_  
 _‘Cause you—you make me feel like I’m intoxicated—toxicated_  
 _To the sky, flying high, take me to the moon_  
 _Day or night, we don’t have to say a word,_  
 _‘Cause you make me feel like I’m intoxicated—toxicated_

He sits and stares, waiting for the phone to cut off to Voicemail. Puck couldn't pick up because he doesn't want Blaine to give up one of the best things in his life without fighting for it. Puck also knows that if he picked up Blaine’s call, he wouldn’t be able to let him go again. When it goes black, Puck grabs the phone up in his hand. And then he waits, closes his eyes tightly, fingers squeezing the phone, and waits for the signal of the Voicemail.

But it doesn’t come.

His phone flies from his grasp as he jumps because the phone is ringing again. He lets out a yelp that he would totally deny if he had an audience. The phone lands on the floor, looking like it’s almost cradled by his carpet. Blaine’s face peers up at him, tauntingly, and Puck quickly snatches up the phone, sweeping his finger over the face to decline the call. He brings his palms up to run over his hair, and sighs.

“Puck? Hello?” a tinny voice breaks through the silence. Puck freezes, staring at the phone in his hand like it’s about to explode. “Hello?” he hears again.

_It’s Blaine. God dammit, it’s Blaine. Puck, you idiot, you answered the call!_

“Puck? I guess I should just han—”

And Puck fumbles with the phone, looking like he’s playing hot potato as it jumps in his fingers. He brings it to his ear, upside down. “Blaine, you there?” he answers back, _finally_.  _Wow, good job, Puckerman, for sounding calm and collected_.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?” Blaine’s voice floats from the phone piece, which is not by his ear. He quickly spins it around the correct way.  _Think, Puck, think. What_ were _you doing?_ “Puck, are you okay?” Blaine asks again, concerned and slightly confused.

Puck was glad that this was Blaine, because Blaine didn’t pry as much as other people would. He’d ask politely, and then if you didn’t speak for a while, he’d be okay with that. But, then again, this was  _Blaine_ , and because he wasn’t just anyone else, Puck couldn’t just brush it off like Puck was totally fine here.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’m fine,” Puck started. He ran a hand over his Mohawk, trying to stay calm and think on his feet. “I just got out of the shower, heard the phone ringing and I—fumbled?” he ended lamely. He closed his eyes, groaning internally by how fucking stupid he sounded.

The sound of a giggle met his ears, and Puck instantly relaxed. “You mean to tell me that  _the_  Noah “Puck” Puckerman—former McKinley Titan that used to cradle a pigskin so gracefully— _fumbled_  a cell phone?” Blaine full out laughed this time, and Puck couldn’t help but smile and laugh with him. Blaine was teasing him. A teasing Blaine meant a Blaine that wasn’t totally crushed by a breakup, which Puck hadn’t realized until now how scared he would have been if Blaine was falling apart at the seams and they were thousands of miles away, essentially on other ends of the country, and he couldn’t wrap his arms around him.

Wait, where the fuck did that come from?

_PUCKERMAN, FOCUS._

“Tease all you want, Anderson. We can’t all be perfect all the time. Even a badass like me can admit that,” he quipped, falling back onto his bed with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Blaine sighed across the phone. No, no, Blainers can’t be sad. This is a happy call. But Puck stays silent. “So… I called Kurt, just like you told me to. He didn’t answer.  _Again_.”

Puck wasn’t the smartest person on the planet, but he sure knew how to read people. Of course, it would have been easier if Blaine was face-to-face with him to read him, but Puck was pretty good at reading people’s tones ( _At reading Blaine_ , a small evil voice spoke up in his head that he punched back into the recesses of his mind.). And the tone in which Blaine had said “again,” with equal parts sadness and bite, Puck knew that this was a huge deal.

“You want to talk about it?” Puck offered softly.

There was a small intake of air, and a soft rumbling as Blaine let it out. Blaine was silent for a few moments. “No, not really,” he answered quietly. And Puck nodded even though Blaine couldn’t see and he was about to tell Blaine that it was okay if he didn’t want to talk, when Blaine broke through the line again. “Actually, yes. I tried talking to Sam about this, but he wasn’t any help. Mike’s going through his own breakup, so I don’t want to bother him. There’s no one else I’d want to talk to but you—” and Puck’s heart gave a little flutter at that “—and I’m sick and tired of staying quiet and nice and— _fuck it_.”

Then Blaine was off, letting everything out, getting all the weight off his chest. Puck let him talk, growing more and more to hate Kurt. Blaine was exploding with anger, but it was easy for Puck (with his anger management issues) to detect the high amount of underlying pain lacing his words. Blaine used more curse words in the span of a few minutes than Puck had ever heard out of his mouth in the two years that he’s known him. Even curse words that he never knew existed, and a few choice words in Spanish, French, Italian, and (surprisingly) Latin.

“God damn, Prep School,” Puck interjected in a lull of Blaine’s ranting, “You sure got a mouth on you.”

“Yeah, well, having to be overly polite and composed all the fucking time makes your wild side even stronger.”

And Puck couldn’t wait to get to know this other side of Blaine.


End file.
